“Friendship isn’t always easy. But there’s no doubt, it’s worth fighting for.”
CHAPTER 4: Lost and Found
* * * * *
“We are gathered here today –”
Celestia. Princess of the sun. Her voice rang through the resonant chamber of the throne room. Hundreds of ponies were gathered in audience behind me, and Equestria’s benevolent ruler stood before me in radiant splendor. She was a vision of regal dignity and authority, a gleaming symbol of gentle guidance and supreme power. And I’d just winked at her.
Honestly I don’t know what I’d been thinking. I guess I just got caught up in the excitement of the ceremony. A pony can be forgiven for feeling a little giddy under these kinds of circumstances, right? It was a big day! We were receiving heroes’ honors, in front of all of Canterlot, my friends and I. Twilight gave me an encouraging nod, so at least she didn’t seem to think I’d made any sort of gaff. She stood proudly in the lead. My best friend. My fearless leader.
“We are gathered here today, to once again honor the heroism of these Six friends, who stood up to the villain, Discord, and saved Equestria from eternal Chaos.”
Six friends. It was true, every one of us, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, we’d all been instrumental in defeating the embodied spirit of chaos, one of the most powerful and dangerous enemies Equestria had ever seen. But it had been Twilight who had really saved the day. In truth, she’d rescued each of us and led us to victory over Discord. I loved each of my friends more than every tree in my orchard (though I’d never tell them that), but it was Twilight who made us more than any other group of pony friends. Without her, I’d just be a face in the crowd. A background pony.
But as long as we had Twilight, we could save the world …
* * * * *
I woke up for the second time in Gray Mare’s house. She had been soundly asleep in her rocking chair when I’d finally came in from the town last night so I'd gone to bed in the same room I'd used before. I slept long enough that the room was illuminated with the pale light of morning, and even though I was still a little tired, my body wouldn't let me drop back to sleep. Years of waking up at the crack of dawn had conditioned me so thoroughly, even the strange and horrible experience of the past few days wasn't enough to shake the old routine. I rolled out of the bed and stretched, taking in the room now that I could see better in the daylight. There was another old photo in a frame on the side table. It had been too dark to see the last time I had been there, but it was the same mare I’d seen in the photographs in the stairwell, only this time she was alone, smiling sweetly at the camera. It was covered in dust.
Downstairs, I found Gray Mare right where I’d left her and I was relieved to find her awake. I’d have hated having to disturb her from a sound sleep.
“Good morning,” I greeted her.
“You’re wounded,” came her reply.
I looked ruefully at my wolf-bitten leg. The swelling had gotten worse and the bandages needed changing. “You can tell? I mean, I didn’t expect … on account of … well you know.”
“You think just because I’m blind I can’t see you?” she said with a steel edge.
“Yeah, well ... Wolf got me pretty good over by the convenience store,” I dodged.
“And you didn’t treat it?” she said flatly.
“Ah, well. There were no medical supplies in the store.”
The elderly mare leaned back, rocking in her chair. “No medical supplies. There were no medical supplies,” she said wistfully.
“Uh huh,” I nodded, “I figure maybe I can find some in one of the buildings around here? I still need to get a bit more food to last you a good long time.”
Gray Mare started as if I’d poked her. “Food, you brought food. For me?”
“I said I would.”
She contemplated me through her blindfold, frowning. “Hmm. You need medical supplies.” She emphasized *you*, as if there was anypony else to talk to.
“Uh. Eeyup. Else I figure this here bite is gonna fester. Not sure how long I’ll last if that happens.”
“Not long,” she said flatly. I got the feeling she knew what she was talking about. The firelight danced across her face, highlighting the deep creases around her mouth and brow. Weighed down by bad memories. I knew the feeling. I could still feel the same weight pulling at my own heart every time I tried to sleep. I suddenly had a stark premonition, seeing myself sitting in an old rocking chair, wearing that same, heavy expression. I reached out to touch her hoof. She didn’t flinch.
“You need Rosinante’s Beard,” she said.
“I need who’s what now?”
“Rosinante’s Beard,” she said again, “It’s a hanging moss that grows on dead tree limbs. You can use it to make a poultice to cleanse your wound.”
I scratched my head. “Moss huh? I ain’t never heard of using a plant as a disinfectant.”
Gray Mare snorted out a bemused whinny. “Mainlanders,” she said, “Even the country folk can’t remember the old ways.”
“Old ways? Like ancient pony secrets?”
“Not secrets, child. Knowledge,” she said. There was a touch of sadness in her words, tinged with pity. “Ponies have spent so much time shaping the world into the way they want it to be that they’ve forgotten how to live in it.”
I looked around at the darkened lamps and light fixtures. “Well, I reckon without magic or technology, having someone who knows the old ways is gonna be pretty important.” Gray Mare raised an eyebrow, glaring through her blind fold, “Not that it weren’t important before,” I said placatingly, “If it’ll keep my leg from falling off, I’m happy to learn right now. So, uh, this moss. Roci-whatchamacallit. Where can I find some?”
Gray Mare rubbed her chin with a weathered hoof. “Neighbor, two houses down,” she said, pointing over her shoulder, “He was always lazy. Never cleared the deadwood around his house. I’m sure you’ll find some moss on the trees around there. When you have enough to cover your wound three times, bring it back here and I will show you how to make the poultice.”
I nodded and stood to leave.
“Applejack,” the old mare said, making me pause in the doorway. Looking back at her, she seemed hesitant. Almost confused. “Thank you.” she said, “Thank you for helping.”
“Shucks, it ain’t nothing,” I said, putting on my best humble grin. If I’d had my proper cowpony hat, I’d have tilted it down over my eyes. The wooly touque didn’t provide the same effect. “And I reckon you’re about to pay me back by helping me with this here flea-bite,” I said, waving my injured hoof. Gray Mare smiled. It was a small, fragile smile, but it was enough to prop up her wrinkles.
The sun was shining as I stepped outside, and I had to hold a hoof up to block some of the glare from the snow. With my new sweater and the other garments I’d collected, I was almost comfortable. Now that I had the right supplies to handle the cold, it felt less like an ever-present monster, stalking my every step. But I knew it was a fool's comfort.
When you work on a farm, you learn real early about routine dangers. The kind that are easy to avoid, but deadly if you let your guard down. More than one Apple had been lost to a falling hay bail that was stacked too high, or buried in a grain silo that wasn't sealed properly. Heck, I was pretty sure the reason Granny Smith was so persnickety about disinfecting wounds was on account of witnessing one of her relatives get gangrene.
And of course, there was always frostbite to worry about. Work didn't stop for winter, and spending all day toiling in the outdoors without proper coverings was a sure fire way to lose some skin. I huddled my muzzle down into my sweater's tall neck, happy that I'd made it this far without freezing off the tip of my nose. It was honestly a miracle I hadn't gotten frostbite the first night after the train wreck. Thinking back, it felt like I'd been laying in the snow a long time, but I suppose I must have actually gotten up pretty quick, otherwise I'd have died of hypothermia before I ever got frostbite.
I remembered the lights. It had felt like I'd spent an eternity staring up at them. I'd never seen anything quite so beautiful. Or eerie. The night sky always made me feel a little uneasy. Being an earth pony, I was always most comfortable with my hooves firmly on the ground. Looking up into the black, star-filled void, thinking about being up there, untethered and floating, always gave me the shivers. And then to see that light. The aurora shimmering up there, larger and stranger than anything my earthly existence had seen. It was awe inspiring, in the oldest sense of the word. The kind of awe reserved for unknowable gods. I shivered. And not just from the cold.
It was too much to dwell on, so I decided it was a better idea to focus on the task at hoof. Gray Mare had been right. There were plentiful amounts of a dull, hanging moss growing from the tree limbs a few houses down. I set to work gathering as much as I could. It was more than I needed, but there was a good chance I'd need more if I ran into that wolf again. With my moss safely tucked into my pack, I headed back to my elderly friend.
An achingly familiar aroma greeted me as I stepped inside. It was the rich smell of vegetables and beans spiced with summer herbs.
"Is that some of the soup I got at the convenience store?" I said as I limped over to the fireplace. A pot of delicious-smelling food was simmering close to the fire. "Ya'll must have had a fancy schmancy food critic living in town if they kept this kind of gourmet in stock."
"It's just soup," Gray Mare replied, "I added a few things from my kitchen, but I haven't cooked for anypony for a long time. Good to know I still can."
"I'll say. This looks even better than the soup my Granny makes."
There was genuine warmth in her smile as the blind mare gestured for me to fill a nearby bowl. "Eat," she said, "And I will show you how to use that moss to treat your wound."
I was more than happy to take the load off of my aching leg and sit down by the warm fire. There were two clean bowls stacked to one side. Stirring the pot with a ladle released a pleasant steam that soothed my parched nose and carried the comforting and cozy smells of a home cooked meal.
"Watch," Gray Mare commanded once I was settled with my soup. I dutifully observed as she began tearing the moss into small shreds. I took a sip from my bowl, relaxing just enough to start enjoying the break from the harsh outdoors. But the silence and firelight put me in mind of my conversation with Fidelius, how we'd talked about the school fire. That night must have been horrible. I couldn't imagine Gray Mare hadn't noticed anything. And if Twilight had been there, she would have done something. Probably something loud. Now that Gray Mare was properly fed, maybe she would remember hearing what had happened.
I broke the silence. "First time we met, you mentioned something about the 'bad ones.' Ponies who came through town, yelling and making demands?"
Her hooves slowed in her task. "The bad ones. Strangers. Came from the tunnel."
I frowned into my soup. "The tunnel huh? The one through the mountain just outside town? It's all caved in. There's a bus trapped inside, buried in the rubble. I think my friend went through there, but it must have shifted since then and I can't get through. Do you know any other way around to that side of the mountain?"
Gray Mare started piling the shreds of Rosinante’s Beard on her lap. The scraps of foliage made a rustling sound that reminded me of autumn leaves.
"No. The tunnel is the only way back. They took her through the tunnel. Dark. Cold." She took a hoof-full of moss and began flattening it into a pad.
My eyes widened. Was she talking about Twilight? "Who did they take through the tunnel? Do you remember what happened to her?"
Gray Mare pounded at the moss, grinding it flat with a relentless beat. "I remember them. Strangers. Mainlanders. I told them about her." I glanced at her face in alarm. Her expression was slack and distant. Could be that she was having another flash back. Or maybe it was trauma from more recent memories.
"Told them about who?" I asked, "Are you talking about Twilight? Was she here when the bad ones burned the school?"
"She was here. By the school. So much shouting. I told them. They didn't listen. Hurt her. Took her to the tunnel."
I stood, my soup and injured leg equally forgotten. "They hurt Twilight? That blood…" The grizzly message on the wall of the bus had taken a lot of blood to write. Had there been more on the ground? "Gray Mare, there has to be another way past the mountain," I said with growing panic, "I have to go help her. Is there a way through?"
The moss she held let out a pungent, earthy smell as she crushed it. "Another way. Not through the tunnel. A secret way. Can't…remember."
I reared up, placing my hooves on the arms of her chair. "Gray Mare, listen. My friend went through that tunnel. I need to go after her. If you know another way around, I need you to tell me."
Her nostrils flared and she turned her head toward my bitten foreleg. "Blood." I glanced at my wound. There was indeed fresh blood soaking my improvised bandages. Gray Mare seemed to deflate as she held up the pad of mashed moss.
"Applejack" she said, dropping my name like an anchor. "This is for you."
"Wha– We were talking about the tunnel. I need to get past the tunnel," I sputtered.
"I'm sorry, it's difficult to remember. Everything mixes together. I just need to remember…"
"You're not making any sense!" I growled, snatching the poultice from her hooves and roughly dragging the spent bandage off of my leg. "I thought if I brought you food, you'd be able to remember."
"You're helping me. Helping me remember," she said, slowly tilting her head.
"That's what I thought too," I sighed through gritted teeth as I pressed the moss poultice to my swelling wolf bite. It hurt, but I didn't think that was why tears were stinging my eyes.
"Yes. I feel better," she said, "But there's still something I need. Something nearby ... The farm. You need to go to the farm."
"I need to get through the tunnel. I can't stay here much longer. My friend is hurt and I need to get to her!"
"Yes!" The old mare shouted, "that's what I keep remembering! But I can't remember what happened! I can't remember where to go to get past the tunnel! If you want my help, go to the farm. Find the box. It will help me remember."
The poultice felt good against my tattered skin. It had already stopped the new bleeding and the throbbing was beginning to ebb. Even so, the deep pain where the tooth had grazed my bone ached under the pressure.
I considered leaving, going back to the tunnel and trying to find my own way through. Twilight was so close, and she was injured. But I still hadn't gathered enough food for Gray Mare to survive until help came. I pressed the moss harder against my wound, the pain building alongside my frustration.
But I had to let that go. With a sigh, I eased my grip on the poultice. I couldn't abandon one pony to help another. Twilight could take care of herself. She'd taken care of herself so many times, even when she had to do it on her own. And I probably wouldn't find my way to her without Gray Mare's help anyway.
"Fine. Where's the farm? And what's this box I'm looking for?"
"There's only one farm. Out on the edge of town. If you've been to the tunnel, you walked right past it," she pulled a small first aid kit from behind her chair as she spoke. "There's a box there. An old one. With a lock. Buried out back. Find it and bring it back to me.”
"Am I just supposed to dig holes all over till I find the box? I ain't a diamond dog you know."
The old mare paused for a moment, turning her head as if looking out through the walls. “Next to an old cottonwood tree, marked with a painted rock,” she said, plopping the first aid kit on her lap. “Oh, and you'll need the key. It'll be somewhere in the farm house."
“Aright. Locked box and key. I think I can do that.”
The first aid kit popped open with a clatter and the old mare pulled a pair of fresh bandages from inside.
"Did you have pain killers in there this whole time?" I asked.
"No," she said, lifting my leg to wrap the bandages tightly around the moss poultice. "No medicines. But I always keep bandages on hoof."
I flexed my newly-dressed leg, testing its flexibility. Gray Mare had done a bang up job. Better than some nurses I'd seen. I'd be right as rain in just a few days. That is, so long as I didn't get any more nibbles from the local wildlife.
"Hmm. No medicine huh. You don't happen to have any other emergency supplies though, do you? A road flare for instance?"
* * * * *
“I hope I never see you again!”
“Me too!”
“Fine!”
“FINE!”
The angry voices of my friends rang through my head, one after another.
“That’s it. This is the end. Go home, Applejack,” Twilight’s words struck like arrows through my chest, just like they always did.
It was a bad memory. An invasive memory, concocted and forced into my mind by the chaotic villain, Discord. In his attempt to overthrow the elements of Harmony, he'd shown me a false vision and convinced me it was true. I had truly believed my friends would abandon one another. That they would abandon me. And in my despair, I rejected truth altogether, turning to falsehoods because it was just easier to live a lie than accept that horrible truth.
The memories of that day still crop up from time to time. It used to be that they always concluded with relief and triumph. With Twilight’s happy memories and love pouring into my mind, burning away the false truth with the bright flame of our friendship. In that moment, I was sure that we would all be together forever and that nothing, not even the demon king of chaos could tear us apart.
I couldn't conjure that resolve anymore. I knew none of those words were real. None except the last. But that was all it took to shatter my illusions. The happiness and safety from the time before was just as false as Discord's vision. I still reached for it, like a drowning pony reaching for the surface. I could almost remember what it felt like. But then I heard Twilight’s voice, as clear as if she was standing right in front of me, and it all slipped away, leaving me to sink down into the abyss of the hard, real, truth.
The truth that, even though our friendships might never end, we could still be torn apart.
* * * * *
I shook my head to clear the painful memories. The long walk to the farm was too peaceful. It let me slip into daydreams. The sort I usually had to quiet with apple brandy. But seeing as there wasn't a drop of alcohol to be found (and frankly, it'd probably just give me hypothermia anyway), I trudged on and tried to focus on my surroundings.
It was cloudier now than it had been this morning, and a little windy. Another blizzard might be on the brew, but for now it was pleasant enough. The derelict town crawled by as I walked. The layout was familiar now that I'd been through most of the houses, but the silence still set my hair on end under my warm sweater.
No. It wasn't just the quiet that was unnerving. The regular sounds of life in a town were gone. That wasn't eerie in itself. I'd been on plenty of camping trips far from any civilization, where the only sound was the music of nature. But an abandoned town didn't sound like nature. It was all creaking metal and rattling chains. Loose roof slats stuttered in the wind and windows clattered in their frames. There was no real silence at all. It was a cacophony of emptiness.
And of course, I knew it wasn't safe. My mind might have been wandering, but my ears were perked up and listening for hostile wildlife. That wolf could be around any corner, and every rustle of snow across the frozen pavement sounded like rasping claws. I patted the flap of my saddlebag, feeling the single road flare tucked inside. The only one Gray Mare had. Hopefully I wouldn't need it, but it was nice to have something other than my makeshift knife to protect me.
I paused as I came to the deep, snowy field that marked the boundary of the farm. I hadn't seen it in the dark the night before, but the field was actually an orchard. Solemn, gray apple trees stood like naked, emaciated ghosts, up to their knees in snow. It reminded me of home, but as a strange, distorted imitation. The trees weren't healthy. It looked like nopony had tended them for years. In the distance I could see an old windmill, creaking with rust as the blustery day blew through its crooked blades. The abandoned town was creepy, but it hadn't really bothered me on a fundamental level. But this. This bothered me. From where I stood, I could see at least four things that needed repairs or maintenance. And the poor trees. They must have been standing untended for years to be weighed down with so much dead wood. I didn't even want to think of the layers of fallen apples that must have accumulated over the years, rotted to dirt beneath the snow. I had half a mind to get right to work sorting out this sorry operation.
At least the terrible condition of the orchard fence allowed for easy access to the property. Probably let in all kinds of vermin too. I huffed as I trudged across the wide field, resisting the urge to stop and examine every tree. This wasn't my farm. I knew it wasn't. But if the owner was anywhere around, I knew I'd be giving them a proper scolding for letting such a promising orchard go to waste.
I couldn't help but mutter my distaste as I pushed my way through the deep snow. A proper farm would at least have a path cleared for regular field inspections. As it was, my chest was plowing a small furrow across the clean, white drifts.
I was about half way across the field when I heard him. The low growl of anticipation set my heart racing like a jack rabbit on a hot frying pan. I turned slowly, careful not to stumble over my heavy boots as I dragged them through the packed snow bank.
The wolf had chosen his moment. His wide, furry paws were like snowshoes, sinking only a few inches into the snow. He could walk right up to me and there was just about buck-all I could do about it. Triumph danced in his yellow eyes.
It's strange. In the movies, whenever you see a pony in a crisis, they're always so frantic. If they're running from something, they always trip. And if they're holding something, they always fumble and drop it. But in that moment of helplessness, I didn't feel frantic or clumsy. Everything was clear and easy.
I needed the flare. Gray Mare had gas one to spare and now it was right at the top of my pack. So I simply reached over, nudged my nose under the flap, and took it. In a single motion, I pulled off the cap and struck the flare to life. Just like last time, the world was lit with fiery sparks and the wolf fell back with a yelp of surprise. I was hoping he would run, but he must have gotten a little braver since the first time he'd encountered a road flare. Still, he didn't come within the circle of red light that flicked in the snow around me.
I glanced at the flare. I knew it wouldn't last long, but I guessed it would probably get me to the farm house. At least I hoped so. Best I didn't waste any time. It took a force of will to turn away from the wolf, but I knew my only chance now was to get to safety before the flare died.
I plowed on, shoving my body through the snow, ignoring how it melted into my sweater. Damp clothes could be a major problem, but that was something I could worry about when I was safe. Right now, my whole world was the snow, the flare in my mouth, and the quiet footsteps of the wild canine as he trotted along behind me.
I spared a few glances back at him as I cut my path toward the farmhouse. His massive paws were built for winer in the wilderness, letting him glide over the deep snow with ease. He followed a meandering path, ranging out to one side or the other, always just outside the ring of flare light, testing to see if there were any gaps.
I pressed on. The muscles of my legs started to burn and my lungs worked like bellows to keep a steady pace. I reckoned I was only a hundred yards from the farm house, but even at my best pace, I was barely making a yard every two seconds. The flare was still going strong and I tried to figure how long it had been since I lit it. Judging by how soaked my sweater was, it must have been a while.
The fact that this had been my only flare nagged at the back of my mind. If this wolf decided to hang around the farm, I might be stuck inside for a long time. And even if he left there was no telling if I'd run into him again on my way back. There was a good chance I'd have to fight him again. I tried to put the thought out of my mind, but it was difficult to shake.
Fifty yards to go. I was almost there.
Fzzt fztfztfzt fzzt
The flare sputtered and for a heart-stopping moment I thought it was about to fail. But after the brief spout of irregular sparks, the stream of red light resumed its steady flow. Though, it seemed like it was a bit fainter. I took another look at the wolf. He had retreated a few paces at the sudden noise, but was already resuming his persistent stalking.
I tried to force just a bit more speed from my aching legs. Thirty yards.
Fzzzz fzzt fzzt fzzzztfzt
Another sputter and this time the flare was noticeably getting weaker. My protective ring of light contacted by a few inches and the wolf closed in a step. My breath was coming out as enormous puffs of cloudy vapor that were instantly whisked away in the breeze. I was winded, but I knew my own stamina. Even after hours of hard labor, I would always have the energy left to race Big Mac back to the house. And I usually won. If I could just get out of this snow I could break into a sprint and cover the last of the distance in the space of a couple seconds.
It was only fifteen more yards.
Fzzzzzz FZT FZT
The flare was struggling now. It would sputter out at any moment. I tried to leap into a run. I knew it was of little use. Any speed I gained from the leap would be wasted as I plunged back into the fluffy snow. But as I jumped, I got a better look at the area directly in front of the farmhouse's entrance. There was a driveway, mostly clear of snow, that stretched toward me from the front porch. What I had thought was another ten yards of deep snow was really only three.
With just a few more steps to go, I hurled myself forward and burst from the snowbank like a fish breaching water.
Fzt fzt fzt fzzzzzzzzz
The flare gave out on its final gasp, fading into a burnt out husk. Before the last spark touched the ground I was already flying across the driveway. Without missing a beat, the wolf launched itself after me and I heard its long claws clicking against the pavement as he gave chase.
That final burst of desperate action took barely three seconds. I leapt every step on the porch, clearing it in a single bound. Thudding into the door with my shoulder, I used the rebound of the impact to twist myself around and flung the spent flare directly at the charging wolf's face.
I knew it wouldn't really hurt him, but the sudden distraction of a plastic cylinder slapping his nose was enough to stun the wolf for just a moment. It was all I needed to throw the door open and stumble inside.
I kicked the door shut, and slumped down against it, heaving out a sigh of relief and exhaustion.
“I could win … a race against Rainbow Dash … No mangy mutt … is gonna outrun me,” I gasped between rasping breaths. A loud howl from the other side of the door set my mane on end and I whirled around, a fresh rush of adrenaline causing my vision to narrow. The wolf let out a few barks and scratched at the door for a moment. Instinctively I reached up and set the latch. I didn’t think he could work a door knob, but I figured it was better safe than sorry.
After a minute, I heard him huff out a growl and retreat from the door, giving up for now. I sank to the floor in relief.
The small interior of the old farm house materialized around me as my eyes adjusted to the dim environment. The windows were dingy, filtering the daylight and tinting it slightly brown. It made me feel like I was inside an old sepia tone photograph. That impression was even stronger for how completely still everything was, like the whole room had been frozen in time. There was a blanket crumpled on a beat up old couch. A small plate sat on the nearby side table along with some bits of paper. Household clutter was gathered on the counters of an adjoining kitchen. It wasn't quite messy, but gave the impression that it was inhabited. Except for the fact that every surface was covered in a layer of dust so thick it resembled the snowbank I'd just escaped from.
Ordinarily I'd be mighty creeped out by the eerie atmosphere of an abandoned house, but with all I'd been through in the past few days, I was thinking more about whether there would be any warm clothing in the bedroom or preserved food in the pantry. I shook my head at my own callousness, but couldn't muster even a twinge of shame. How long had it been since the train crash? Scarcely a week by my reckoning. Just a few days of desperation and now I was accustomed to pilfering other ponies' property like it was a trip to the market.
I ventured further into the house. There was a small bedroom off the main area. I could see a tantalizing trunk inside along with a large dresser. Across from the bedroom doorway was a small alcove occupied by a broad desk with a typewriter and a filing cabinet to one side. And beyond that, the kitchen with its many cabinets.
It was a veritable jackpot of untouched supplies and equipment. And it looked like no pony had missed any of it for a long time. And I was still in a survival situation. But … how much did I really need?
I scratched my chin, considering the question. I could still use a proper coat. My current ensemble was sufficient for a walk on a breezy, sunny day, but if I had to weather another blizzard I'd want something a little more waterproof than this sweater. And I still needed a bit more food to fill Gray Mare's larder, as well as provisions for myself.
I nodded, determined to show at least a little restraint in looting this latest trove of forgotten pony property. Besides, I was here for a reason. The key and the lockbox. I probably wouldn't have even come in here if Grey Mare hadn't sent me on this errand. So. First thing first. If I were keeping a key to a lockbox, I'd have it somewhere in my bedroom.
Shuddering window panes greeted me as I entered the quiet little room. It reminded me uncomfortably of my own bedroom back at Sweet Apple Acres. The chest I'dl seen from the living room took up most of the wall space next to a compact fireplace. A bed with a simple, but cozy-looking quilt. One dresser with three rows of drawers. Nothing but necessary storage and sleeping space. It was a quiet retreat for a single pony who spent most of their time out and about.
Still, there were plenty of places to hide something as small as a key. I checked the obvious places first: the chest and dresser. There was no sign of anything hiding amidst the few articles of light clothing. There wasn't even anything worth taking for myself. Next I checked the fireplace for any loose bricks. As a filly, I'd stashed my diary in the section of our chimney shaft that extended into my room. There had been a gap in the mortar that made a perfect hiding spot. But there were no such chinks in this sturdy little fireplace. I moved on to the bed.
It was cliche, but I had to look under the pillow. It was a terrible hiding place, but for something important, something you want to keep close, the instinct to keep it near while you slept might be too hard to resist. The pillow was stiff like a dead fish as I lifted it. And I almost dropped it in surprise at what I found underneath.
"We-he-hell. Looky what we got here," I said.
The metal barrel of a six-shooter revolver gleamed, even in the sparse sunlight. I carefully picked it up and slid the drum out to check if it was loaded. It was. With a flick of my hoof, I flipped the drum closed and considered the weapon with a frown.
A gun hadn't exactly been on my list of needed supplies and equipment. But it might be just what I needed if I ran into my canine friend again. The thought of actually shooting the wolf made me a bit queasy. Granny Smith told a few stories about how her pa had used a firearm to protect the family from some of the smaller critters that used to range out of the Everfree Forest, but it had been a long time since anypony in Ponyville had felt the need to own a gun.
Still, I knew the basics of how to use it. One of my great uncles had taught all the youngsters at one family reunion. I'd been a pretty good shot, though I never got used to how loud the little things were.
I fastened the pistol above my fetlock by its sturdy strap and tested its fit by holding it up in a ready position. The small wooden stock was simple, but rested comfortably against my foreleg and kept the gun steady as I looked down the sights. For an earth pony like me, the gun would require both my forelegs to fire. One to aim, one to press the trigger lever. That meant I wouldn't be able to move and shoot at the same time, but I reasoned that keeping still would be better for my marksmanship anyway.
With the revolver secured to my leg, I left the bedroom to continue my search. I figured that the next most likely place to find a lockbox key would be the office, but allowed myself a small detour to the kitchen. Any preserved food in this house would probably do more good in Gray Mare's pantry than just sitting here gathering dust.
The kitchen echoed the bedroom in its efficient use of space. I was beginning to wonder who used to live here. It was obvious that the house had been abandoned long before the aurora, but it still felt lived-in. As if the owner might pop in at any moment. A sauce pan was sitting on the stove with the telltale, mineral film of boiled water and a stained cutting board jutted from the sink. Just like the bedroom, this kitchen reminded me of my own at Sweet Apple Acres. I even instinctively knew to look in the little corner alcove for canned goods. It made it hard to ignore the growing feeling that I was stealing from somepony.
A whole case of canned peaches were sitting on a shelf in the pantry, smiling down at me with their sunny logos. I frowned back at them.
"My friend needs this food," I said to the empty house. "I don't expect nopony else is gonna be using it, so I'm gonna take this now."
There was no answer. I sighed. Even if the ghosts of this old home had explicitly forbade it, I probably would have taken the peaches anyway. They were too good of a resource to leave behind. I tried to muster a sense of guilt as I crammed the case into my emptiest pack.
As I walked back past the stove I paused, considering the small pot.
"Aw heck with it," I muttered, taking the old cookware and hooking it on one of my pack's buckles.
With one of my major quests fulfilled, I returned to the hunt for the key. The office area wasn't even a room unto itself. Just a desk sectioning off a quarter of the living room. Even so, it was obvious the owner had spent plenty of time here. Papers littered the desk, with some pinned up on a pegboard to the side. Most of them were bills, it looked like.
I set to rustling through the drawers, trying not to disturb the mess. Mostly they were filled with office tools. A stapler. Pencil sharpener. A quill with some old ink, totally dried out. Nothing useful or interesting, until I opened the small, center drawer of the desk. There, I found more papers, but these had been gathered into a strangely neat stack, and they were regular notebook paper with hoof-written messages.
I read the top one without moving it:
Hey Paint,
I know you’re in town. Joe Bighorn told me. Don’t be mad at him, it just sort of slipped out while we were chatting over the mail.
Listen. I know we haven’t talked in a while. And that our last conversation didn’t end so well. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things I did. Everything has been changing so fast since you been gone. Looks like something went wrong up north and the Princess sent some guard ponies to “ensure our safety.” Bunch of thug mainlanders as far as I’m concerned.
I’m starting to think you had the right idea, leaving like you did. I certainly can’t blame you for it. Not anymore. I understand if you hate me and don’t want to talk. But I’d really like to see you before you head out again. I’m still up in the old house.
Maybe now’s a good time to open that old time capsule. Remember the good times. I’ve still got my half of the key.
My ears perked at the note’s mention of a key, wondering if it was the same one I was here to find. But what did it mean “half” of the key? I gently slid the note aside so I could read the ones underneath.
Paint,
Doctor says the cast has to stay on for another two weeks and that I can’t travel. I told him the leg was feeling a lot better but he was having none of it. If he weren’t the only doctor in town, I’d just ignore him and come with you anyway. And I guess he has a point about being careful not to re-break the bone. If I had to put up with another month of being cooped up in the house I think I’d go crazy. Still hoping I can get one more climb in before the snow starts, but who knows. Wouldn’t be the same without you and your camera. Come by and see me before you go!
Paint,
Joe told me there’s a bad rope on our southern cliff. I looked at it yesterday and it seemed fine to me. I’m gonna do a climb this afternoon, come find me there when you get back from the store, will you? I want to take a picture from the top to show Joe that he’s just being a worry-wart.
Paint,
The colors on the west slope are starting to turn! This weekend will be your best bet to get those autumn references you wanted so bad. That big birch grove near the resort will be perfect. I’ll climb back down tomorrow (hope this gets to you before then, Joe said he’s been having trouble with his truck). See you soon!
They went on like that as I dug deeper into the stack of papers, all addressed to somepony named ‘Paint,’ from another pony named ‘Gracy,’ with frequent mentions of rock climbing and photography. But none of the others had any mention of a lock box or key. I placed all the papers as a neat stack back in the drawer and sat down with a sigh.
I cast a forlorn glance around the small house. There were no other obvious places to look for a key. If it was here, it was well hidden, and I wasn’t interested in tearing the whole place apart. I knew where the box itself was supposed to be. Maybe finding the box would be enough. And if getting at its contents was so important, maybe I could just break it open.
With my mind made up, I went to the door and cautiously peaked out into the driveway. There were scuffs and pawprints in the snow where the wolf had paced a bit, but other than that, there was no sign of the furry predator. I ventured out, keeping my ears sharp for any hint of other living creatures in the area. Everything was silent. Going around back, I quickly spotted the tree that Gray Mare had mentioned. My expertise might be in apple trees, but I had enough experience to know what a cottonwood looked like. Now all I needed was a shovel.
There was an old garden shed in the corner of the yard, up against a line of birch trees. The door was hanging off its hinges, so I let myself in to take a look. Sure enough, there was a shovel leaning against one wall. As I grabbed it, the handle caught on something heavy on the floor. It was a hatchet, rusted from exposure to the weather, but still serviceable. With that, getting more firewood would only be a matter of spending time and calories to chop up any of the various limbs strewn around the wooded areas. After only a moment's hesitation, I picked that up too and slid its haft through a loop on my saddlebag.
I tensed as something outside hissed as it moved across the snow. Was that the wolf? I slowly crept from the shed, shovel- first, but I couldn't see any indication of another living animal and there were no obvious tracks apart from my own. The wind rose in another gust, blowing some late-fallen leaves over the snow.
"Spooked by the wind? Heh. Must be losing my nerve," I muttered to myself, trying hard to believe it actually had been just the wind. I resisted the urge to shiver as I walked back to the tree and started my excavation.
I started by dusting the snow off the rock that was wedged against the cottonwood trunk. It was painted, just like Gray Mare said, but I hadn't expected it to be so pretty. A broad, stylised heart took up most of the rock's flat surface, with intricate spirals in colors that would have made a vibrant rainbow before the erosion of windy years. And right at the center, lay what looked like half of a locket.
It was corroded, looking like it had been out here for as long as the house had been abandoned, but its sturdy construction still protected whatever it held inside. Curious, I picked it up. It was hefty for such a small bauble, weighing in my hoof like it was filled with lead. It looked like it was half of a broken heart and there was a small hinge on the top, but no visible mechanism for releasing the lock. With a shrug, I set it back down on the rock and got to digging.
The shovel rasped against the frozen ground loudly, setting my teeth on edge and filling me with paranoia. Nothing like multiple encounters with a predator to awaken your prey-animal’s urge to stay quiet. Nothing I could do but try to drag up as much earth as I could with each stab I made into the rigid flesh of the earth. The pistol strapped to my fetlock made each motion awkward. I considered taking it off while I dug, but decided I’d want it handy in case the wolf surprised me.
It was strange how comforting the weapon was. I’d never imagined a gun would bring me comfort. The thought of killing had already crossed my mind the previous night, when I was preparing to confront the wolf outside the entombed bus. But that seemed different now. It had been the desperate thoughts of a mare who, if she was being honest, didn’t think she stood a chance. The determination to kill is easy to conjure when you don’t really think you’ll succeed. But I knew I could do it with a gun. If my target was close enough, there was no way I could miss. And even though I’d never seen a gunshot wound, I’ve seen what a bullet could do to a watermelon. The thought of red splattering across the white snow flashed through my mind. Watermelon. But not watermelon.
Was that really something I was willing to do? Even to a wolf? The twinge in my wounded leg reminded me that the wolf would enthusiastically do worse to me. And I’d already tried to use my knife. A bullet wouldn’t be any more violent than a blade, right? And it would give me a better chance of getting through another tussle with all my limbs and extremities intact. And, if anything, dying from a gunshot would probably be quicker and less painful than being stabbed to death, right?
The shovel slipped in my grip and smacked me painfully in the jaw.
“Landsakes, Applejack,” I growled, rubbing my face. “That’s what you deserve for lying to yourself.” I went back to my excavation with a frown.
I knew there was no amount of justification that would explain why I felt so much better now that I had the means to kill. So what was the truth? Even dwelling on the bloody consequences of shooting another animal wasn’t causing the sort of revulsion that I would have expected. Was I a murderer now as well as a thief? Or maybe this callousness had always been a part of me… This wasn’t even the first time it had come out. Discord had been the first to show me the cold-heated pony that lurked under my colorful exterior.
“I better go too. I got new, BETTER friends waiting for me at the farm”
Why had I said that? I knew it wasn’t true. But what else could I do? This was how it had to be. I’d seen what would happen if we tried to stay friends. I knew it was destined to end in heartbreak, so better to get it over with now. Discord had shown me.
I was just doing what had to be done.
The loud clang of metal on metal echoed through the yard and scared me out of my reminiscing before I could finish the memory. Sure that the noise would attract any predator nearby, I cast a few furtive glances around as my heart rate came back to normal. I was still alone in the yard. With a sigh, I leaned down to inspect the small pit I’d formed. Brushing away some loose soil, I could definitely see some kind of metal surface. A few more shovel-fulls of dirt and I could clearly make out the top of a metallic box.
I leaned down and brushed away enough dirt to see the box clearly. It looked like an old lunch box. It was stuck in the solid ground like a tick on a dog’s ear, but after a minute of prying, I finally had what I’d come for. It looked like I probably wouldn’t need a key to get into this hunk of metal. The sides were pretty flimsy, with years of corrosion clinging to it like moss. I took a close look at the lock, hoping it might even be completely rusted away, but it wasn’t a regular key hole. Instead, there was a small space with a familiar shape.
“Huh. Well that’s interesting.” My muttered words were carried away by the wind as I reached over to the stone that had marked my digging spot and picked up the heart pendant. It fit perfectly, but only filled half the slot.
“Well what the hay am I supposed to do now?” I said in frustration.
“I’d suggest holding real still.” The new voice sent a spike of cold adrenaline through my chest. There was a strange buzz to it that set every hair in my mane on end. Very slowly, I turned my head so I could see the pony with the unsettling voice. He looked . . . very normal. He was a brown unicorn with a lighter mane wearing a tidy-looking jacket and a green scarf. There shouldn’t have been anything different about this meeting compared to Gray Mare or Fidelius. Heck, Gray Mare was arguably more hostile what with bashing me over the head with a pan. Best I could tell, there was nothing sinister about this stranger, but I couldn’t shake a deep mistrust for him.
“Can I help you pardner?” I asked, trying to keep my voice civil.
“Maybe,” there was definitely something wrong with his voice, “You come from the train wreck? Few miles back up the mountain trail?”
I narrowed my eyes. Something was telling me that I did not want this kind of attention from this particular feller. Still, he wasn’t threatening me. He’d told me to hold still, but he wasn’t holding any weapons and didn’t seem to be prepared to attack me. The weight of my new pistol drew my attention again. If he tried to hurt me, I could fight back. I pushed down the thought of red splatters on white snow that tried to rise up in my mind again.
“I came from that direction,” I said. It felt like a pathetic attempt to be cagey. Guess it was just against my nature.
“You one of Twilight Sparkle’s friends?”
My heart leapt at her name, and instantly sank with dread. What did this buck want with Twilight? I had a hard time convincing myself that he was interested in helping us. “You know where she is?”
An ugly little smile curled the stranger’s lip. “I’m gonna need you to come with me, miss,” he said with his strange voice.
I instinctively shifted my weight, planting my hooves more firmly in the snow. “Sorry, friend,” I said, “I’m a little busy right now. Why don’t you wait right here, and I’ll be back to talk later.”
The stallion sighed and shook his head, but the unsettling little smile never left his face. Before I could react, he made a strange motion with his shoulder and a long spear suddenly thrust out of his jacket, pointing right at my face. “I wasn’t asking,” he said smoothly, “You need to come with me, right now.”
Welp. I didn’t want to go with him before, and waving a spear at me didn’t exactly improve that disposition. Before I knew it, I’d raised my gun, mirroring his threatening gesture. He froze, glancing at the barrel that was now squarely pointed right between his eyes. For just a moment, his smirk faltered, but he recovered, locking his eyes with mine.
“Well, well. My little pony has some tricks up her sleeve.” He shrugged, but kept his gaze on me without so much as a blink. “You’re one of them aren’t you? The special ones that used to tag along with Sparkle.” Rage began to bubble up inside me at his sneering tone. “I guess you're not the shy little weakling. Still, none of you were ever much for fighting. All about solving your problems with friendship and redemption, right?”
“I don’t take so kindly to that kinda talk about my friends,” I growled. A slight tremble was creeping into my foreleg. If I really was going to shoot this buck, I would probably have to make that decision soon. I brought my other hoof to rest against the trigger and steady my arm, silently praying that the threat alone would be enough to scare the stranger away. To my dismay, the stallion seemed to be ignoring the weapon I was pointing at him.
“Oh, that’s right,” he drawled, giving the tip of his spear a little twirl, “Your friends aren’t around anymore are they? I remember hearing something about that.”
The chill of the dry air was starting to burn the inside of my nose as the stiff breeze blew into my nostrils. The tremble in my leg was getting worse. Or, was my whole body trembling now?
“Six of you went out on a mission for the Princess.”
My whole body was shaking and I had to strain just to keep my gun pointed at the buck with the strange voice. The wind was building, kicking up snow into a white veil surrounding me and the stranger. Clouds were rolling in to cover the sun. A storm was coming. A blizzard, dark and cold. Just like the start of our last adventure. I remembered getting off the train with all of my friends. And not just the ponies.
“Seven,” I said through gritted teeth. “There were seven of us.”
The stranger cocked an eyebrow and gave a dismissive shrug. “Well, however many went out, I do remember one thing for sure. Only two came back."
Every muscle in my body tensed as memories that I’d kept buried for years clawed their way to the surface like zombie ponies in an old horror movie. Flashes of darkness and light. The horrified expressions of my friends as they were washed away in a flood of black and purple. Twilight’s soft weeping and the warmth of her tears on my shoulder. It had taken years and gallons of alcohol to dull those images and sensations. The sudden flash of the past was enough to paralyze me.
I didn’t even feel the blow that knocked my gun away. The spear that had been poised a few feet away was suddenly inches from my throat.
The stranger’s laugh was an odd, rattling sound as he sauntered toward me. “Too easy, little pony. Now stop trying to play tough and come quietly.”
I glared at the stranger, still shivering with old rage and grief. The pain I was feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. I’d dealt with it. Gotten over it. Let it heal into a twisted scar on my heart, a permanent wound, but one that was closed. And this stranger had managed to rip it open with just a few callous words, letting the agony bubble up to choke and immobilize me.
Defeated, I let my forelegs drop back to the ground. A warmth was spreading over my right leg. I glanced down to see a small cut weeping blood that was slowly soaking into my sweater where the pistol strap had been. The buck must have used his weapon to cut it away and nicked my skin. It wasn’t a bad wound, not compared to the bite on the other leg, but I distantly noted that I should still make sure to disinfect it. The small gun had fallen through the snow right in front of me, leaving a pit in the pristine, white bank. I tried to summon the will to care, tried to convince myself to look for some way to fight back, to hurt this brutish pony the way he’d hurt me. But I couldn’t even lift my eyes to look at him again.
“Where’s Twilight?” I was surprised by my own voice. I’d wanted to say something savage and defiant. Wanted to show the stranger that he wouldn’t beat me. But as the weight of my own misery bore down on me, all I could think of was my friend. I needed Twilight. She could save me. Just like she always did.
The stranger snorted. He was only a few steps away now. “We’ll have her soon enough. Now that we have you. That insufferable hero complex will get her eventually. Almost had her last time, and there’s no way she got far. Not with those wounds.”
My ears perked. “You hurt Twilight?” I said. Suddenly I could feel the heat of my cut leg and I was able to lift my chin and look at the strange buck again. He was wearing an expression of pure, condescending derision. It reminded me of the look I’d occasionally get from the fancy Canterlot aristocracy, only with an added glint of venomous malice. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hurt a pony more than I did at that moment. I had a feeling I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding it too, because he pressed the spear’s point a bit more firmly under my chin.
He smiled his ugly little smile and said, “Just something to keep her from running. Of course, I wasn’t counting on that teleportation spell. None of us other unicorns can get so much as a levitation spell to work since the light show.”
He shook his head in mock admiration, “That mare has some tricks up her sleeve. Up and vanished. Left all those poor villagers trapped in the school. Even after she went on and on about helping everypony. But I don’t think she’ll be able to abandon one of her closest friends so easily.”
What did he say? Twilight left the ponies trapped in the school? The school that burned down? That didn’t make any sense. Twi would never do such a thing, would she?
“You’re a filthy liar!” I growled. The snow was swirling thick around us now and between the rising wind and the blood hammering in my ears, it was getting difficult to hear. I was starting to consider whether I would last long enough to kick this slimy buck into paste even after he cut my throat.
“Well if you don’t believe me you can ask her. Just as soon as we –” he froze, and for the first time since we’d met, he looked away from me, off toward the treeline.
It all happened in a fraction of a second. I ducked my head, turning and tucking my chin to avoid the blade of the spear and surged forward into a shoulder tackle. At the same time, I used both hooves to snatch the fallen pistol from the snow as I barreled into the stranger’s knees. We tangled together for just a moment and I did my best to bring the barrel up into his ribs.
Then a wall of shaggy black fur slammed into us, knocking the stallion away and sending me sprawling sideways. I clung to my pistol for dear life and used my elbows to sit up and point the weapon only to realize that I had two targets. The wolf was back, and it had its jaws firmly locked on the stranger’s jacket, yanking him back and forth and pummeling him into the frozen ground. The stallion was reaching for his spear that was lying on a patch of clear ground a few feet away. As I watched, the wolf released the fabric of the buck’s jacket and instead sank its fangs into his shoulder. He let out a gurgling scream.
I lowered the gun. Its strap was severed and useless, so I picked it up into my mouth and got up to my hooves. The wolf was still savaging the stranger, who was striking back with one hoof. I could already tell it wasn’t a fight he would win.
With a few cautious steps, I approached. The wolf paid me no mind, intent on worrying his captured prey like a rawhide strip. I freed up my mouth by dropping my pistol into my saddlebag so I could pick up the lock box and broken-heart pendant from where they’d fallen. The stranger looked at me. “Help me!” he snarled.
I snorted and tucked the box and necklace into my saddle bag. The world around me was turning gray as the blizzard closed in. “Serves you right,” I said, turning away. He’d die for sure, and I knew I was killing him. I had a gun. And if I really needed it, I could probably use that spear too. Fighting off the wolf would have been easy. Chances were good a warning shot would be enough to scare it off. But I was just walking away. After this, I’d be a murderer. But what did it matter? I was already a thief. I could pretend all I wanted, but I didn’t save ponies. And if what the buck had said was true, it didn’t look like Twilight saved ponies either.
Maybe I was fooling myself trying so hard to find her. After all, had she even bothered to look for me? Whatever she was here for, she probably thought that was more important. She’d said she needed my help, but when it came time to help me, she was nowhere to be found. We didn’t help ponies. Not really. Not when it mattered.
I should just go back to Gray Mare. Or maybe just leave. Find my own way home. I’d probably need to keep the peaches. That would mean Gray Mare was less likely to make it through the winter, but what did it matter? If the world was really so broken after the aurora, did she really stand a chance. Did I really think I was helping her? Even before this, I had been planning to leave her just like I was leaving this stranger. Just like Twilight left the ponies trapped in the school. The truth was that we were never heroes. The truth was that when the danger came, we left other ponies behind, even our best friends. The truth was that I was a thief and a killer and a coward. And I was leaving.
Everything was gray.
*
*
*
Applejack!
Her voice rang in my memory as clearly as when I’d first heard it on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, stopping me in my tracks. That time, I’d been under an enchantment, bewitched by Discord’s magic. He’d drawn out my fear of losing my friends and used it to make me give up on everything I was. And now? This was different, wasn’t it? My friends were gone and I was on my own. What had she said to me?
This isn’t you! You’re not a liar!
The truth. The truth was that I had accepted a lie because it was easier than facing the truth. The truth that I couldn’t control everything that happened. The truth that I still had a responsibility to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t my fault. And the truth that I was a good pony, and sometimes, being a good pony was hard.
I was lying to myself. It would be easier to walk away. I didn’t want to hear what that horrible stallion had to say about Twilight. About what she did, about what he’d done to her. It would be easier to believe that my friend had failed. Again. It would be easier to believe that we were both bad ponies and I could just let go of my morals and just take whatever I wanted from this broken world, give up on finding Twilight and just survive, day after day, alone. I wouldn’t have to remember the happy times that were gone forever, or think about what it would take to have a future again. It would be so much easier to just give up.
But I wasn’t a liar. I could tell myself that I wanted to take the easy way out, but I knew that was wrong. I wanted to be a good pony. I wanted to make my family proud, and show Equestria the value of the Apple family. And I wasn’t a thief. The things I took belonged to the dead, and when I met a pony who needed them, I’d shared. And I wasn’t a killer. Despite all the terrible things the stranger had said, despite what he’d done to Twilight, despite wanting to punch his stupid smile into his muzzle … I didn’t want him to die.
I sucked in a gasping breath, the same as when I woke from a bad dream. The blizzard wasn’t gray. It was blinding white and shimmering. I had only taken a few steps. The sound of the stranger struggling with the wolf came to me clearly over the wind.
“Consarnit,” I muttered, whirling about and reaching into my saddlebag to retrieve the pistol. It was difficult to aim without the strap, but I wasn’t trying to hit anything anyway. I braced the weapon against one foreleg and used the other to press the trigger lever. The sound of the shot exploded in the small clearing, reverberating off the farm house and setting my ears ringing. The bullet cracked into a tree, sending bark and splinters flying over the wolf and its pinned prey. The animal yelped, leaping away from me on the other side of the prone and bleeding pony. I fired again, aiming wide to avoid hitting the stranger. That was enough for the wolf, and it turned tail and disappeared into the woods, leaving me alone with a badly wounded pony wheezing on the ground.
I hastily stowed the pistol again and trotted over to where the stranger was struggling to sit up. His jacket was destroyed, its red-stained stuffing strewn about him. I couldn’t get a good look at his shoulder and I was glad for that. Blood was already starting to seep out onto his green scarf. His breathing was ragged, but steady.
“Well,” he gasped, looking up at me balefully as I came to stand over him, “What now?”
I reached down and pulled him onto my back. I’ll admit, I wasn’t as gentle as I could have been, and he let out a moan of pain.
“Now,” I said, “You’re going to tell me who you are,” I heaved my way back over to the farm house porch and opened the door. “You’re going to tell me why you’re after Twilight,” I dumped him onto the floor. “And,” I kicked the door shut, “You’re going to tell me what really happened at the School.”